


Sweet Like Sunshine

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Butterbeer (Harry Potter), First Kiss, Fluff, H is 5th year, Harry's really nervous around Louis, Hot Chocolate, L is 7th, M/M, Mutual Pining, Niall think's he's an idiot, No Smut, Pining, Quidditch, Spoilers - he is, lots of commas, lots of sighing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 18:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17924069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Louis saves him from some seventh years bullying him on his lack of Quidditch skills, Harry takes offense. Louis offers to teach him to make up for it. They fall in love somewhere along the way.Featuring one exasperated Niall, trips to Hogsmede and many flying sessions.





	Sweet Like Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarah_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_writes/gifts).



> Hiya! So I kinda merged two of your prompts, I hope that's okay. I just thought they fit very well with each other and would make a decent story so here we are, I hope you enjoy it, I had fun with it. 
> 
> Thank you Cath for beta-ing for me, you're an angel for doing it at such short notice ily
> 
> The title, as usual, has no bearing on the fic other than my apparent new obsession with the sunlight lmao
> 
> Enjoy :)

“Hey Styles!” 

The shout comes from further down the corridor, carrying over the morning rush of students trying to get to their classes. It's one of the seventh years, he can tell, voices easily recognisable after sharing a common room for five years. Harry ducks his head and walks faster. If he's quick enough, he might be able to get to his lesson without any trouble. It's unlikely to work, but he tries anyway. 

“Hey Styles, I'm talking to you.” Harry sighs inwardly, tightens his grip on his books and looks up. 

It's Callum and Steven, seventh year Slytherins notorious for having 'absolutely nothing' to do with younger students being beaten up in the corridors. It's often said they do it because they're too stupid to use magic. Harry privately agrees. 

“Can you get out my way please,” Harry asks quietly, staring at the space behind their heads. 

“Nah, sorry mate,” says Callum, not sounding sorry at all, running a hand through his dirty blond hair. “Got summin' to talk to you about, we 'ave.” Steven nods, shuffling to the side to block their little meeting from view. 

“We heard you was gonna be trying out for the quidditch team,” he said, pursing his lips and staring Harry up and down. 

Taking a small step back and squaring his shoulders slightly, Harry meets their eyes. “What's that got to do with you exactly?” he says, braver than he feels. 

“So it's true then?” Callum says, smirk beginning to appear on his lips. “You want to play quidditch?” He nudges Steven and starts to laugh, Steven joining in after a moment's confusion. 

“You,” Callum says, wiping a tear from his eye, “you want to play quiddi-” he breaks off, wheezing with laughter. “They'll never let you on the house team,” he says, smirk back in place. 

“The only thing you're capable of doing with a broomstick is wiping the floor.” He stops again, laughing at his own joke. 

Harry deflates a little, frowning. It's just, it's not like they're that far off the mark. He's not that good at quidditch, he never has been. He knows all the rules, has read all the books, but when it comes to actually playing he's just not very good at it.

Still, he practices. Every summer in their little garden in Holmes Chapel, spelled invisible by his mum, he and his sister take it in turns flying around the garden, shooting at little hoops they made when they were young. 

He's always wanted to be as good as Gemma was, she was captain of her team for two years. She could have played professional if she'd wanted, but she's taken a year off travelling the world 'the muggle way.' 

Callum stops laughing abruptly. He's staring at a spot behind Harry's shoulder, a mildly sheepish look appearing on his face. 

“What're you doing, Callum?” a familiar voice sounds from behind him. Harry turns round and is met by none other than Louis Tomlinson, seventh year Slytherin, prefect, and, in Harry's rather humble opinion, the most beautiful person to ever walk the planet. He keeps that one to himself though. If word got out that he fancied Louis he'd never live it down. 

“Just uh, warnin' little Harry 'ere that joining the quidditch team with no experience mightn't be the best idea,” Callum said, nudging Steven who nods along gravely, as if they hadn't been ripping Harry's dreams to shreds mere seconds ago. 

“Just concerned for 'im, that's all” he adds, Louis' sceptical look not wavering in the slightest. 

“We'll uh, just be goin' then,” Steven says, pointing awkwardly behind him, pulling at the hem of Callum's robe with his other hand, clearly not wanting to upset Louis any further. Snorting, Louis turns to face Harry. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, concern sparkling in his eyes. There's something else in that look, too, but Harry can't place it. 

“Fine thanks,” Harry says, as nonchalant as possible. Irritation is burning in his gut, and anyone else's concern is only going to make it worse. Especially Louis'. He wants Louis to like him, not think of him as some pathetic little fifth year that can't stand up for himself. 

The thing is, the only reason he really wants on the team in the first place is to see Louis. Louis is Slytherin's captain, and Harry thought that if they only got to spend a little more time together, then Louis might notice him for once. 

When he had told his plan to his friends they had just scoffed, as usual whenever Louis is brought up which in fairness, is rather a lot. 

“Alright,” Louis says slowly, dragging out the word just a tad too long. 

“Look, thank you, Louis, but I...” Harry starts, trying to appear more confident than he feels. Louis raises his eyebrows and says nothing, waiting for Harry to continue. “I really didn't need saving, I was handling it,” he says firmly. 

“Are you sure?” Louis asks, “because it didn't exactly look like it.” 

“I was handling it,” Harry says again, the irritation he feels creeping into his tone. “And I didn't need some stupid prefect to try to help.” 

With that he turns on his heel and leaves. He doesn't look back to see Louis shocked, hurt, stare, but keeps walking. He's almost ten minutes late by the time he gets to class. 

–

Later that night after going over the incident at length with Niall he concludes that he may have been a little too harsh. Niall is mainly just shocked Harry had been able to speak at all. If Harry is honest with himself, so is he. Niall just shakes his head and goes back to his homework. 

They're sitting by the fire in the Slytherin common room. Niall is in Ravenclaw, but he and Harry had been friends way before they came to Hogwarts, and being separated into different houses was not going to stop them. Though some people still throw them the occasional dirty look, most people have gotten used to it by now. 

As Harry stares into the flames and contemplates how he's ever going to get Louis to like him now, Niall makes and aborted hand gesture towards him, flailing around for a moment before opting to just hit him instead. 

“What was that for?” Harry asks, rubbing at the sore spot forming just above his elbow. “Arse,” he mutters under his breath. 

There's a soft laugh from beside him, and he whips round. It's Louis. 

“Hey,” Louis says. He looks a little nervous, and a lot sheepish. Harry instantly feels bad. 

“I just wanted to apologise for earlier. I shouldn't've just jumped in like that, 'm sorry.

“No, Louis, I'm the one wh-” 

Louis holds a hand up to stop him. He looks like he means business so Harry lets up. “You didn't do anything wrong. Let me make it up to you?” 

He cocks his head slightly and makes puppy eyes, and Harry's brain short circuits. 

“I, uh, what do you have in mind?” 

Louis smiles like he was just waiting to be asked, sitting on the empty chair beside him. “Well, they were making fun of you over quidditch, right? Well. I'm the quidditch captain amn't I?” 

He sounds excited now as he carries on. Harry's breath is caught in his throat as he studies how pretty Louis looks right here, light from the fire catching his eyes, making them sparkle. 

“I was thinking, I could teach you if you wanted to learn. You could come down at the end of practise and I can help you learn how to play. Who knows, you might make the team.” 

“I,” Harry starts, his breath catching, “you would do that for me?” 

“Of course,” Louis says earnestly, leaning closer. “What do you say, does Thursday sound okay to you?” 

“Thursday? Thursday sounds great.” 

–

“Shit,” Harry mutters as he misses the quaffle for what must be the hundredth time that night. He's never been great at catching, but he's never been this bad. 

Louis flies over, and although Harry knows he's trying to stay positive he can see the clear line of despair on Louis' forehead. 

“Let's just call it a night,” Harry says dejectedly as Louis attempts to speak. He knows he's going to spout some positivity crap and Harry really isn't in the mood. 

Louis closes his mouth, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. He gives a one shouldered shrug and lowers back to the ground. 

After they've showered and changed Louis waits with him as he stores his broom away. They've barely spoken since Harry had asked to stop, and he can't help feeling like he did something wrong to offend Louis. Again. 

He turns back around to face Louis, eyes fixed on the ground, unsure. 

“It was only your first session,” Louis says gently, reaching out to pat Harry consolingly on the arm. “You'll get better.” 

Harry wishes he could believe him, but he knows that it's being around Louis that's making him play badly. He just wants to impress him, and every time Louis looks at him with focus in his eyes Harry loses sight of what he's meant to be doing. But it's not like he can tell Louis any of this, so he keeps quiet, nodding along to what Louis is saying. 

“You don't have to be nervous around me,” Louis says, picking up Harry's discomfort.

Harry's head whips up, and he stares at Louis, lips parted. Oh god, did Louis know. 

“Y'know, just because I'm captain...?” he trails off, looking at Harry curiously. 

“Oh,” Harry breathes. Then he clears his throat, nodding vigorously. “Oh, uh, yeah.” So eloquent, he thinks to himself. If Niall were here he'd most definitely be facepalming right now. Louis laughs, though he still appears a little uncertain. 

“Shall we go back then?” he asks, nodding up at the school.

Harry is just pleased his voice has returned to normal when he mutters a quick 'yes,' staring at Louis' back the whole way up to the school. 

–

The next time Harry sees Louis he's in Hogsmede. 

It's the first visit of the year and the shops are packed full of excited third years on their first trip there. Harry exits Honeydukes with a huff, it was so full in there he could barely breathe, and he certainly couldn't hear a word Niall was trying to say to him over the chatter. 

“It's like they've never seen a sweet shop before,” Niall mutters as dodges out of the way of a rather harassed looking wizard, who clearly regretted his decision to do his shopping today of all days.

Harry rolls his eyes in response as they set off towards The Three Broomsticks. 

It's a bit too early for a butterbeer but they order them anyway, just grateful to be out of the clamour. He's just taking his first sip as a voice calls his name. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Louis exclaims excitedly. 

He's standing beside Harry now and behind him he can see who appear to be two of his friends. Harry vaguely recognises them as Zayn, Louis' fellow seventh year Slytherin, and, by the looks of it, what must be his boyfriend, Liam, who's wearing a Gryffindor tie. They both snigger at Louis' outburst, but Harry can see the fondness in their eyes. 

“Can we sit?” Louis asks, pointing to the space in their booth.

“Of course,” Harry says, nodding at Niall with a look that tells him he doesn't have a choice, and he nearly spills his butterbeer in his haste to make room for Louis and his friends. Louis laughs as he slides into the booth beside him, accepting a drink from Liam. 

“Hot chocolate,” Louis says in response to Harry's look. “With a little something extra.” 

He winks, and Harry's brain malfunctions for a moment until he realises that Louis is referring to the marshmallows floating around in his cup. 

It's only when Louis doesn't lean away does Harry realise how close they're sitting, practically jointed together down one sides. Harry can feel himself burning and he shifts, trying not to draw attention to himself. 

Zayn gives him a curious look and nudges Liam, who smiles pointedly at Harry. He swallows nervously, but they don't say anything, instead launching into some ridiculous story that soon has all five of them laughing. 

They fall into easy conversation for a while, and Harry can see them becoming friends. Though he's somewhat surprised to learn Liam and Louis have been good friends since they started playing quidditch against each other in second year, and that Louis had stood up for him when he found Liam being teased about having muggle parents, he doesn't say anything. It's not like he didn't know Louis isn't anything like Callum or Steven, with their ridiculous prejudice against Gryffindors.

No, Louis isn't like that. He's kind, sweet, and so much fun to be around. 

Harry can't remember the last time he laughed like this with a group of people. It's usually just him and Niall, and he loves that, but it's nice, the five of them crowded round the little table in the corner, teasing, laughing, ordering food. 

It's late afternoon by the time they get up to leave, pulling on their coats against the bitter wind outside. 

Louis walks beside Harry, and he can't be imagining the way their shoulders touch as the sway together. 

Niall and Liam are arguing good-naturedly on the pros and cons of quidditch versus football and Harry just blurts it out, brain to mouth filter disappearing entirely. “We should all play together.” 

The boys all voice their assent, and Harry finds suddenly that they're meeting on Sunday in the early morning to play. He isn't quite sure how it happened, even though it was his idea. 

Louis must notice his change in mood, and, mistaking it for nerves, places what he thinks is a comforting hand on Harry's back. Harry goes into overdrive, the contact of Louis' arm warming him far more than the coat he's wearing. 

“It's fine, H,” Louis says, quiet enough that Harry is the only one who can hear. “You can be on my team.” 

Oh, I am already on your team, Harry thinks to himself, and he can feel his cheeks turning pink at the thought. He blames the butterbeer.

Realising it's been too long and that Louis' waiting for him to reply he forces his face into what he hopes is a smile. 

“Can't wait.” 

–

Harry lets out a shout of victory as the quaffle soars through Niall's outstretched arms, scoring him and Louis another ten points. It's ninety – thirty to them, but really, who's counting? Louis clearly is, and he laughs, speeding over to high-five Harry in mid-air. If Harry giggles and blushes, that's for him to know. 

They've been playing for almost an hour now, the sun steadily getting stronger as it climbs into the sky, getting rid of the soft haze of early morning to make way for the clear, crisp blue. 

It's Harry and Louis v. Liam and Niall, Zayn joining the latter of the two teams when he realised they were going to need a bit of help.

He had thought it might be intimidating, playing alongside Louis, but it's only made him better, the bone deep happiness he feels after each score, Louis' blinding grin, yeah, he's content. 

It's made even better when they win, playing first to one hundred. Louis flies into him and together the fall, laughing, to the ground. 

Harry has one hand in the front of Louis' top to stop himself from falling, other arm resting loosely around his waist. Louis is giggling and squirming in his arms, and all Harry can think about is how much he would like to kiss him, to find out if he tastes how he looks, an embodiment of sunlight. 

Then the others crash into them and the moment breaks. Harry tries not to be disappointed. 

–

When Louis asks Harry back down to the Quidditch pitch it shouldn't be a surprise. They've been hanging out for weeks now and they've become fast friends. Harry had sort of hoped Louis had forgotten about his promise to teach him to play, and though he'd had a pretty great time playing with Niall and Liam and Zayn, he's not sure he can handle being one on one with Louis again. 

When he tells Niall this he just scoffs, pushing Harry towards the door. Harry glares, but he goes anyway. Niall is right, it's only putting off the inevitable.

Louis meets him at the edge of the pitch with a huge smile on his face, and Harry tries to tamp down the feeling of butterflies but he's mostly unsuccessful. 

The first half hour goes mostly smoothly. Harry catches and throws with easy precision, but then everything changes. 

The sun is beginning to set behind Louis, and it's casting a golden glow around his form. Harry tries, he really does, but Louis is just too damn distracting, with his hair and those eyes and why is he looking at Harry like that. 

He hovers over to meet Harry, and he looks perplexed, as though something he thought he knew has changed imperceptibly, yet enough to throw everything off-balance. Harry knows that feeling all too well. 

“What's wrong?” Louis asks, and it's so soft Harry feels like crying. 

“Nothing,” he answers back quickly, trying to ignore the hurt in Louis' eyes. 

“I, I don't understand,” Louis says, still quiet. “You we're so good the other day, with the rest of the lads. Are you just not enjoying yourself as much, you were having so much fun last time.” 

The 'is it because of me' hangs in the air between them. 

“Louis,” Harry says, and he's shaking. 

“I am having fun. I have the most fun around you, you know that” 

“Then what is it?” Louis asks desperately, “because you're good, Harry, you're so good and I-”

He stops abruptly, pink colouring his cheeks. 

“You what, Lou?” Harry asks, heart fluttering in his chest. 

“I like you. I really like you, H, I have for a while now. Ages, in fact but, that doesn't matter I. I want you to be happy. I just want to make you happy.” 

He sighs out the last part and Harry's pretty sure he stops breathing. In fact, he's pretty sure he stopped when Louis first opened his mouth. 

“Louis,” Harry says, surprised by how steady his voice is. “You do make me happy. You make me the happiest.” Louis looks up at him, and Harry thinks he understands now. 

“So,” he asks slowly, unsteadily, and it's more for conformation than anything else. “So, you like me, too?” 

And instead of answering Harry leans forward, and he kisses him. It's gentle, oh so gentle, and soft. It's perfect. Harry can't help wishing they could stay in this moment forever. They break away, eventually, because they have to. Almost immediately they lean back in, Harry smiling against Louis' closed lips, laughter bubbling inside him. He feels Louis smile too. 

“Wait,” Louis says eventually, pulling back and eyeing Harry with confusion, as though something has suddenly dawned on him. “Did you even want to be on the quidditch team in the first place?” 

Harry smiles sheepishly, and he can feel, more than see Louis' incredulous grin. 

“You really are one of a kind, huh?” Louis muses, stroking along his jaw with his fingertips. 

Harry just grins, leaning in to seal their lips together once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, as always comments and kudos are much appreciated!


End file.
